


Same Old, Same Old

by unscriptedemily



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Anyways, Canon Era, Cutesy, Dorks, Early Mornings, Established Relationship, Fluff, GOD they are so AGFKSFNELADM u know, M/M, Mornings, Tags Are Hard, bye, i hate them, thats all 4 now folks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-04-18 09:26:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4700849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unscriptedemily/pseuds/unscriptedemily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roy and Ed are bad at mornings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Same Old, Same Old

**Author's Note:**

> i havent posted anything in a little while, so here, take this super short, crappily written ficlet that i wrote while tired and emotional. also, i love Havoc. he's fantastic.  
>  Fee, if you're reading this, i blame you for this bc u said u were writing and it made me feel guilty about being so inactive. Everyone, it's all Fee (SmutJunkie)'s fault.   
> ENJOY THIS PLS U GUYS ARE THE BEST <333

 

Cold light spears through the crack in the curtains and hits Roy full in the face. He squirms, burying his nose into Ed’s hair and tugging the corner of the blankets up over his face. The outside air is freezing, but inside their cocoon is a deep patch of warmth. Ed wriggles closer, golden hair draped like silk across the covers, nudging Roy’s chin upwards so he can press his nose into Roy’s chest. He mumbles something against Roy’s skin, lips soft, voice sending vibrations straight through to his heart.

Then Ed rolls over, dragging most of the duvet with him, and the air hits Roy like ten thousand frigid spears sent straight from the depths of hell. Still half asleep; all he can manage in protest is a strangled whining noise into the pillow. Ed pulls the rest of the covers away and curls up inside them, an evil, malicious burrito of warmth and-

-Roy kicks him off the bed.

Ed shrieks.

It’s morning.

 

***

Ed brews coffee in a sulk, hair gathered into a messy bun on top of his head, strands falling out and curling around his neck; he is wearing one of Roy’s shirts, light blue and hanging almost to his knees,  and he is a _vision_.   
Roy smiles as he comes into the kitchen, running an absentminded hand through his shower-wet hair.

“Here,” says Ed, pushing a mug across the counter, staring pointedly at the cabinets, and Roy laughs, pushes the mug further away because caffeine’s got _nothing_ on Edward Elric, even when he’s scowling.

He drapes his arms over Ed’s shoulders, and Ed makes a halfhearted attempt at pushing him off.

“I’m sorry I pushed you off the bed,” Roy murmurs in his ear, and Ed pretends he’s not wriggling backwards, shoulder fitting perfectly against Roy’s chest.

“You better be, fucker,” Ed says.

“I mean, you _did_ steal all the blankets,”  Roy continues, pressing his cheek against Ed’s head, “and it _is_ December, so I _was_ -,”

Ed spins away from him, back against the counter, angry flush rising in his cheeks, and shoves Roy backwards. Hard.

He stumbles back, winded, laughing, fumbling for the table edge to steady himself on.

“God- Ed- _ow_ -,”

Ed folds his arms. “What kind of apology was _that_ , bastard? _I’m_ sorry I ever _met_ you, you asshole-,”

And Roy reaches for him, tugs him closer, slides his fingertips down his arms till he catches his fingers, kisses the side of his head,

“ _Edward_ ,” he says, “My _love_. My only reason for being. My wonderful, beautiful, _exasperating_ -,”

“Fuck you,” Ed mutters into Roy’s collarbone. Roy pats him on top of the head.

“That, too,” he agrees.

It’s morning.

***

“Bye,” says Ed, kissing him in the hallway, and Roy smiles, dizzy, against his lips.

“I could just not go,” he says, tangling his fingers in Ed’s hair, combing it out, and he _means_ it. He’d gladly brave Hawkeye’s Glare of Reckoning if it means spending all day in bed, with Edward Elric, drowsy and content and utterly, utterly happy. And that says a lot. “I could just stay here- think of the possibilities!”

“Don’t, you bastard,” Ed says, but he wraps Roy closer, chest to chest, on his tiptoes and kissing him again, “I have papers to mark. Shit to grade. _Work_.”

“I could help you mark papers,” Roy growls, low, grazing his teeth against the top of Ed’s ear, “if you know what I _mean_.”

Ed laughs at that, bright and clear as a bell, and smacks Roy’s arm. “What the fuck? That didn’t even make _sense_ -,”

Roy wraps his closers, resting his chin on his head, and shushes him. “ _Shhh_ \- it doesn’t have to make sense. The point is, I’m talking about us staying in _all_ day and having lots and lots and _lots_ of-,”

The doorbell rings.

Ed wriggles out of Roy’s arms, leans up to kiss him again, and straightens his collar, patting his cheek clumsily. “Ten bucks that it’s Havoc.”

Roy sighs, and opens the door.

“ _Nice,_ ” says Ed, as Havoc takes his cigarette out of his mouth, silhouetted against the clear morning light.

“Hello, second lieutenant,” says Roy wearily, and Ed grins sharp and wicked into the glow.

“Hey, sir,” Havoc says, and yawns, “Hey, chief.”

“’Sup,” says Ed.

“Hawkeye has doubled your paperwork already, sir,” Havoc says, tapping his cigarette on his chin, “So, we should probably…go…or something.”

 _Or something_. How about not going? He’s got enough sick days saved up, hasn’t he? Ed’s got papers to mark, and tests to grade, and probably some journalists to curse at when they come to hound him about his latest alchemical discovery, but _still_ -

Roy blows out a long, theatrical breath and turns to Ed, who leans against the wall, grinning up at him in a not-entirely- innocent way.

“Bye,” he says, running his tongue over the points of his teeth, and it’s not _fair_ ; Roy wants to shut the door n Havoc’s face and-

Havoc clears his throat. “Uh, if you could, like, stop making bedroom eyes at each other that’d be pretty great, boss…”

Ed fists one hand in Roy’s collar and yanks him down for another, final kiss. It lasts for what feels like several searing hours, and Havoc is shifting awkwardly on the step, and Roy runs his fingers down Ed’s throat, the other hand supporting his back as the kiss deepens…  
And they pull away, reluctant, lingering, Roy’s hands trailing over his shoulders and the planes of his face before they are apart again, and the space between them is like a chasm. Maybe Roy's overreacting. Maybe he's tired. Maybe he's stupidly in love with this infuriating, incredible man-boy-Ed, and his head is spinning because of it. 

The thing that sucks about mornings is that they always end with leaving.

“Have a good day,” says Ed, and Roy makes a face at him. He laughs, shaking his hair back, like spun gold catching the glinting daylight. “Stop it, dumbass, I’ll still be here when you get back…”

“ _Ten hours_ , Ed,” says Roy, and Ed frowns at him, the clouds rolling in.

“Shut up and go to work, you asshole,” he says, and Roy rolls his eyes skyward.

“Isn’t he romantic?” he asks, over his shoulder, and Havoc shifts awkwardly.

“Uh, sure, boss,” he says, and glances at his watch. “We’re _really_ late now, sir-,”

Ed pokes Roy in the arm. “Go on,” he says, “Go. See you tonight. Love you.”

His cheeks still darken when he says that, and suddenly, Roy feels as if the sun has come out, just for him.

“See you tonight, love,” he says softly, “I love you.”

Ed stares fixedly at the floor, and folds his arms tightly across his chest. “Whatever,” he mutters, but Roy knows what he means.

And Havoc’s nervous shifting really _is_ nervous now, and the paperwork on Roy's desk is surely reaching ceiling height by now, and Ed will still be here when he gets back.

That’s the thing about mornings. They end with leaving, but it’s not the permanent kind. Not anymore.

Ed waves, yawning, from the doorway as he slides into the car next to Havoc, and Roy’s heart aches, but he knows, with a certainty that beats wild in his veins, that they’ve both done enough leaving to last them a lifetime. He’d never thought he’d associate the words ‘settling down’ with Ed and him, but then again, Edward Elric is _never_ what you expect him to be.

Roy’s glad of that.   
  
He blows Ed a kiss through the window as Havoc turns the car around, and the last thing he sees before the door is slammed shut are Ed’s flaming cheeks, the colour of sunrises, and the shine off the skin of an apple, and the battered, dust-worn red coat still hanging on the back of the bedroom door, for old time’s sake.

 


End file.
